


iterum.

by orphxus (impxria)



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, M/M, i love him so much goodbye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5445569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impxria/pseuds/orphxus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">To be with you today-- to wake up with a loved one, to get a sleepy peck on the cheek before work, to find solace in your presence--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">He would do it all over again.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	iterum.

[ { please listen. }](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUZeSYsU0Uk)

* * *

**4am.**

The night sky lights up a quiet room; there’s radiance on his features and he holds the gentlest of expressions. You can’t bring yourself to look away or close your eyes because it’s so genuine-- it’s not the mask he constantly wears for nearly every second of his life. But when he wakes up, he’ll put it back on and he’ll keep living as if there’s no heaviness on his shoulders.

And the thought breaks your heart.

Because he’s so at peace right now. He is not suffering-- not now, not in his dreams.

You stay awake because you’re afraid this won’t ever happen again. You stay awake because you’re afraid a nightmare will disrupt the tranquil slumber. You stay awake because if anything were to ever happen, you would be there for him.

For Haise.

For a warm heart that endures too much. For a warm heart that slowly crumbles as the days pass.

For a warm heart that deserves so much better than the fate that was given to him.

It’s four in the morning and you’re thinking too much. Lips curl into a bitter smile and the attempt to rid these thoughts goes to waste; the tears are beginning to form but you don’t let them fall. His hand is resting on yours and you wonder whether it’s the heater or his touch that ignites a warmth in you.

But you withdraw, slowly and carefully. Fingers gingerly move locks of hair from his face and there’s that familiar feeling of adoration that bubbles in your chest.

You stay awake for as long as you can and you hope that the nightmares do not visit tonight.

You place your hand on his again.

And only dreams greet him.

**11am.**

“Shouldn’t you have gone in earlier?”

A groggy voice fills the air and he nearly jumps-- he turns, wide eyes and a smile greeting you. 

“I’ve got a meeting in an hour. Akira said it was alright to come in later.” He speaks in a soft tone; he knows sleep still clings to you and that you’ve yet to fully awaken. He’s pleasantly surprised that you’ve gotten up just before he was leaving-- normally, you wake earlier and have coffee with him before he goes, but you hardly slept last night. The tired expression you hold only makes him want to tell you to go back to bed, but he knows better.

You’ll always see him off-- never would you dare miss it.

“I’ll be home early today.”

A nod, then approaching footsteps. Your arms wrap around him and your head leans against his chest-- the scent of coffee lingers and the comfort it brings is overwhelming. The grasp loosens and his expression is soft when he looks at you; there’s a selfish desire for the other to simply stay home and just be with you, but the thought is pushed aside.

Lips press a gentle kiss to his cheek and he wonders what his day would be like without it.

“Be safe.”

“I will.”

He leaves.

**6pm.**

This is his favorite coffeeshop. 

This is where your first date was.

The welcoming ambiance never fails to greet you; the warm cup of coffee in hand brings a smile to your face. It’s a rare day where he’s gotten off work early-- though weariness and fatigue envelop him, the content countenance never falters.

Words are hardly spoken; minds are occupied and a serene silence takes place. You’ve always found fascination with the window view here-- it’s all too plain for any other person, but it’ll forever breathe life into old memories.

It was by the bed of flowers where he first held your hand. It was by the oak tree where he first kissed you.

Your smile widens and before he realizes it, his lips curve as well. 

He is grateful for you.

It’s only until later that you realize he’s staring so diligently; curiosity adorns your expression and he almost makes you feel shy again-- it’s that familiar timidness of the first date that comes back and laughter almost escapes at the childlike foolishness.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing-- I just like looking at you.”

\-- and there’s that sheepish smile you’ll never get tired of.

A long sigh leaves as you rise from your seat, hardly giving him any time to follow as feet approach the exit. Your hand reaches behind your back and he takes hold of it with no reluctance, bright laughter filling the cafe as you leave.

**1am.**

His eyes hurt.

His grasp on the book tightens; eyes close tightly and efforts to rid of the sensation are put forth. When he opens them, guilt only accompanies the pain when he sees you looking at him with the utmost worry. He tries to act natural-- a brief apology and a rub of the eyes, then a carefully placed casual expression.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” comes the response-- and another rub of the eyes, “I just feel tired.”

You frown and fear crawls up his spine; he swallows hard and hopes you don’t question him any further. He can’t seem to force himself to feign happiness; he is terribly worn out and it feels like all his energy has been drained.

“Maybe it’s because the lamp is too dim,” you scold him gently and he almost smiles in relief, “you probably strained your eyes reading, right?”

A pause-- his eyes lock with your warm ones and the word comes out with far too much difficulty.

“Right.”

The guilt continues to gnaw at him; he knows he shouldn’t have lied. He knows you would have tried your best to ease the pain, even though you think you never know how. He knows that he can confide in you when it comes to these things, yet--

He knows it’ll never go away and he doesn’t want you to carry the burden. The burden of dealing with someone like him-- the burden of being with someone who doesn’t even know himself. 

Haise pushes the thoughts into the back of his mind-- the pain stays, but it’s reduced to a dull throbbing in his head. Hands carefully place the book on the bedside counter and turn off the lamp; his figure shifts and the bed creaks in response. He hopes that this night will be like the last, with you at his side and no recollections of nightmares.

He pulls the sheets over your bodies and your warmth slowly lulls him to sleep; he never wishes for the pain to return and he wished it had not come tonight, but--

To be with you today-- to wake up with a loved one, to get a sleepy peck on the cheek before work, to find solace in your presence--

He would do it all over again.

Your hand finds his in the midst of the darkness and he never wants to let go.

And he smiles when he hears your voice.

“Goodnight, Haise.”


End file.
